(Vegetables) Chapter Twenty Nine: The Spanish Inquisition Have Nothing On A Determined Mum

Up in their room, Rosa was digging through her suitcases, throwing clothes all over the room. Felindre stood against the wall, watching her and scowling.

“What’s up,” asked Morwen, staring in astonishment from the open door.

“Nothing,” carolled Rosa. “Aha!”

She held up a navy skirt with red polka dots. It was unbelievably crumpled.

“You seriously think that that’s going to work?” said Felindre in disbelief.

“Of course! It’s a full skirt – with a white t-shirt and a petticoat, with a scarf and a ponytail in your hair, you’ll look perfectly nineteen fifties!”

“But I don’t have a petticoat!” said Felindre.

“Give me half an hour and a net curtain and you will,” said Rosa. “Now, put that on. Where did I put my sewing kit?”

Rosa threw the skirt to Felindre and dove into another one of her suitcases, sending clothes, belts and shoes flying everywhere.

Felindre looked at the crumpled fabric.

“Oh hell, a skirt. How did I let myself get talked into this?” she said, at least half to herself. Then, to Rosa: “You do know that there is no way on this green Earth that I will wear heels, right?”⁷⁸

“Yes, yes,” acknowledged Rosa.

Morwen carefully edged her way into the room, and fetched the cookbook. She dodged, as a flowery hairclip flew past her nose and landed on the double bed.

“Have fun, you two,” she said as she reached the door.

“We will!” said Rosa happily. From the look on Felindre’s face, she wasn’t so sure.




Morwen left her father happily reading through “The Art and Science of Fruit and Vegetable’s” in his shed, and wandered off to check on the chickens. They clucked happily at her and looked expectantly, but when she didn’t give them any treats, they went back to scratching around in the stable straw.

“So, girls,” she said. “Turns out me, Rosa and Felindre are actually witches. Does that make you our familiars, I wonder?”

Gingernut looked up at her and clucked, before pecking her inquisitively on the ankle.

“Ow!” she said, and shooed the chicken away. “A bit too familiar, if you ask me. Bye for now, chickens. One of us will be along to tuck you in when it gets dark.”




Morwen had just finished phoning Richard when she got roped in by her mother to take a turn around the engines and stalls set out for the event in the orchard. Ruth didn’t waste any time getting to the point.

“Tell me about this young man of yours, Richard. What does he do?”

“He’s a system administrator,” replied Morwen, carefully neglecting to mention his secret agent status.

“Ah, that’s computers, right? Too technical for me. Still, good money, right?” Ruth looked hopeful. “Will we be able to meet him soon? You should bring him home for Christmas, let the rest of the family get to know him better. Charlie said she might even be able to make it back, though it’s her busiest time of year.”

“Yes, Mum. Dunno, Mum. He might have plans for Christmas, I haven’t asked him. He might be going to see his sister though.”

“So, how did you two meet? And how long ago?”

“God, Mum, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

“Just showing an interest,” said Ruth calmly, with the tones of someone who is determined to find out gossip, regardless.

Morwen sighed.

“I met him in the park,” she said, and stopped.

“Go on,” prompted her mother.

“He fell in the duck pond.”

“Never!”

“I’d seen him before, of course, he likes to go watch the ducks . And they always swarm around him, even more than other people. Though he never feeds them, unlike some other people.”

“But why not?” asked Ruth. “You loved feeding the ducks when you were a child.”

“Our local ducks were getting fed so much bread they were getting so fat they couldn’t fly anymore. So we put a load of signs around the place telling people not to feed them, because it’s bad for them. Not that anyone pays any attention – I have to tell people off for doing it.

“So, there he was, one afternoon, surrounded by ducks, right by the edge of the pond. I was over planting some bedding plants in a nearby flowerbed, and then I hear this splash. And I look over and see Richard standing up in the duck pond, with water pouring off him and the ducks quacking like they’re killing themselves laughing. He looked so wet and bedraggled that I took pity on him and took him back to the office to dry out. And we got talking, and he asked me out, and I said yes. That’s it, end of story.”

“Is it serious?” asked Ruth.

“Mum!”

“I’m just asking,” Ruth said defensively. “When I was your age I’d been married to your father for a year.”

“Yes,” retorted Morwen, “and you’d been a couple for seven years, I know. Are you really that desperate for grandchildren?”

Ruth gave her a look⁷⁹. Morwen sighed, and put her hands up in surrender.

“Honestly? I dunno Mum. I really like him, and I think he really likes me, but it’s still too early. And he hasn’t exactly said anything about settling down with a mortgage, dog and two point four children. Can we stop talking about this now please?”

“Alright, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You bring him home to meet us before Christmas, ok?”

“God Mum, you never give up, do you?”

“When the happiness of one of my children is at stake – never!” Ruth smiled. “Oooh, look at that dress! It’s such a lovely colour - it’d look amazing on you!⁸⁰ Go see if you can try it on!”
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⁷⁸ The only use Felindre had for a pair of high heels was to stab people with them. But that’s another story.
⁷⁹ Morwen learned from the best.
⁸⁰ It did.